


Fortune Favors

by gimmeshellder



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Human AU, avoidant pixie dream girl Rose Quartz, happy 2021, may the new year be filled with our own SURPRISING BOLDNESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmeshellder/pseuds/gimmeshellder
Summary: Rose house-sits for a friend abroad, but forgets some things.
Relationships: Pearl/Rose Quartz (Steven Universe)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	Fortune Favors

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this [ killer piece of Pearl art by lilyroses on tumblr ](https://lilyroses.tumblr.com/post/637418240090488832/i-want-snowww) and wanted to write something for it! Check out their other SU art, it's good stuff B)
> 
> HUGE THANKS to [ PearlDefiance ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlDefiance/pseuds/PearlDefiance) for beta!
> 
> And happy 2021!!!! Please. we're begging

When Rose checks again through the kitchen window, Pearl hasn’t moved: stiff as a sprained knee at the far end of the walkway, creamy light from the streetlamp snagging the snow on her coat. She looks grim. Rose didn't notice the grocery bag earlier -- she watches as Pearl shifts it to her left hand, wiping her right on her coat (she has gloves on) -- and soldiers that very first step from the street. Then stops again. Rose can almost hear her thinking from the kitchen.

She takes up her phone, chilly on the table.

 ~~~~ **(17:55)** _Hello Rose, it's Pearl_ (of course it's Pearl, she's saved as a contact,) _The apartment is pristine! Wow! Again, we can’t thank you enough for your help for so long.  
_ **(17:56)** _I noticed that you've left some personal items. Would an hour from now be a convenient time to drop them off?_

Rose scrolls past the rest of the polite back-and-forth, tapping.

 **(19:13)** Are you close?

The phone must buzz -- Pearl jerks at the hip, nearly slipping (oh!), but recovers. Her free hand wavers by her coat pocket. But then she straightens up, tall -- and forges onward, like the walkway’s a gangplank.

Shampoo, maybe? Or floss? Something? What could Rose have forgotten? Nothing worth gutting through the ice over. Especially jetlagged, like Pearl must be.

But Rose said yes; an hour is fine. She can never help herself.

 _Thumping_ \-- Pearl on the porch, stomping and kicking snow from her boots -- as Rose waits in the hall for the knock. She stands there. Three raps, curt and clear; Rose counts to ten. Then she pulls the door open.

“There she is! Welcome back!” She smiles into the doorway and pulls away to make room. “I just texted you.”

Pearl smiles back, tightly. She switches the bag between her hands, and twitches an elbow towards the doorframe. “I think your bell’s broken.”

“I put in a work order with the school last month, but...”

“ _Month?_ ”

Rose laughs, shakes her head. “It’s fine. I have some slippers if you want to take off your boots.”

“Oh. I’ll -- I’ll only be a minute.” She gives another diligent stomp, and scrape, and moves to dust her coat as snow-free as she can. Rose doesn’t mind. No one expects a clean hall in the winter, not here.

All the shifting gives her a better view inside the grocery bag. A bundle of things, sure, and long green leaves poking just out of sight, like a pickpocket hand. Oh. Rose thought they were leeks, at first. But no.

One last thumping _stomp_ and Pearl looks up, sheepish. She dusts a final gobbet from her hair. It lands on her shoulder. “Maybe I should have waited for all _this_ to stop.”

The morsel of snow drifts off her shoulder to the porch with one last jostle. Rose focuses -- tries to. The words take a moment. “Hm? Oh, no,” she laughs again, light. “No, I’m glad you didn’t.” She smiles and pulls back further to make room. “Come in.”

She’s lost weight. Her face is more angular, at least, even as scalpel-sharp as she’s always been. Her hair tickles lower down her neck. Somewhere under the flannels and woolen vest (Rose got her that one), Pearl seems broader in the shoulders. _Lots of backpacking,_ she mentioned in one of her emails. This close, the skin pinked from cold is easier to tell apart from the sunburn. _They’ve yet to make an SPF strong enough for me,_ she mentioned, too. _I don’t even tan! I just peel._ Rose laughs every time she rereads.

She’s allowed to lead Pearl down the soupcan of a hallway to the kitchen. She should have made tea. A few candles are still going on the countertop, welcoming, warm.

Gingerly, Pearl takes one step onto the tile, and no further.

Rose wishes she would sit. Rose does, at least. And she begins to shift aside the postmortem of her homework mess (should have done that, too), making space for the grocery bag.

“ _Oh!_ ” Pearl’s boot nearly catches the leg of the kitchen table in her hurry closer. “You’re in biochem now?” She even reaches for the topmost textbook before catching herself: halfway there, she turns the grab into a hand-in-the-pocket. And halfway to _that_ , she clasps her gloved hands together -- then lets them pop wide, joyful. Her eyes are alive with it. “That’s -- oh, that’s wonderful!”

Rose laughs and looks away. “Third time’s the charm.”

“Oh, but that’s fantastic. I knew you could. Ochem is the hardest one, you know, once you’ve cleared _that_ beast the others are _far_ easier to bring to heel.” Her beam is bright enough to char. “Who’s your TA now? Is it Zuzanna? She’s the best one.”

“I think she graduated early, too.” Rose finishes stacking the books, trying to make room. “I have Anton this semester.”

That sandbags her the littlest bit. Pearl’s lips purse, and her chin dips: diagonal and back, like the bubble in a level. “He’s not bad,” she decides, fairly. Then the smile is back. “But, please! Let me know if you’d like help. Anytime.” Her boots shift on the tile and she looks down at them. Smiling, not even noticing the water. “I… my exact schedule’s up in the air at the moment, but I’m back for a long while. No more research trips for another year, _at least,_ so… if you...”

“You’re very sweet.”

The smile falls a little. Rose can hear, can feel it dim, even with her eyes on the tabletop. She wishes Pearl would sit.

After a moment, her throat gutters: _Ahem._ And Pearl sighs, crisply. Moving onto the next equation. The grocery bag _clunks_ even as gently as she sets it on the table. “Right! Well, let me… you left… let’s see.”

There’s less inside than Rose expected (but yes, she called it): floss, toothpaste, a nighttime lotion she forgot about after a week. Her turtle-shaped tea strainer.

“Thank you for making time to sleep over, too,” Pearl says. “No burst pipes. It’s an issue with some of those old buildings in the winter.” Rose’s spare phone charger, a pair of socks. “And Genevieve didn’t flee in terror beneath the refrigerator when she saw me.”

“Aww… she was such a lovebug, though.”

“We try to keep her that way. The roommates more than me,” Pearl admits, puffing a laugh through her nose. The bag isn’t empty, but she stops unpacking it. Instead she fusses with the things on the table, straightening them. The corners of her mouth begin to cinch.

Here it comes, then. Rose looks down again. “When are they back?”

“Another month or so…” Pearl makes to reach into the bag again. And she glances at Rose. Her throat gutters clear again: _Ahem_. “Really, we can’t thank you enough. The overlap was terribly timed.”

She finally pulls the clay pot free. One of the leaves snags on the handle of the bag, like it doesn’t want to go, and Pearl clicks her tongue as she painstakingly sets it down. “Dammit -- I’m sorry, it spilled a little.” Peppery soil sprinkles free from the side of the pot and Pearl tries to dust it back into the bag.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry.” Rose laughs and looks away. “They’re hard to hurt.”

“Aloe, right? It’s a beautiful one.”

“Very low maintenance.” Rose smiles up at her. Then down at the plant. “Thank you. For bringing it back.”

The tile doesn’t creak when Pearl shifts again. Just slightly; just so. Like roots settling. Rose can hear her expression. The tiniest pinch in her eyebrows. The pretty crescent of her lips in a patient frown, studying the top of Rose’s head, watching her wilt under double replacement problems.

“Were you comfortable?” Pearl breaks the quiet. Her hands slip into her pockets, still gloved. “Even without all three of us there, it can... feel small.”

Was Rose comfortable?

Alone? In the apartment? Tiny, sure, but tidy, and glowing cool with the light from the aquarium. Rose spent hours watching the betta fish glitter like pocketchange. Just beautiful. But was Rose comfortable there? Curled against the arm of the sofa, drinking tea from Pearl’s mug? Ignoring Pearl's soft fleece jacket, draped and forgotten on the arm opposite? Was she comfortable?

When the cat ferreted beneath the lip of Pearl’s bedroom door enough that the shoddy lock popped free, and Rose ventured in to try and scoop her from under the bed? When Rose’s voice shriveled, mid-coax? When she realized she could _feel_ Pearl in the room from an ocean away? When the cat, eyes gleaming like laboratory slides, stared at Rose coiled quiet on the floor as she reeled with it? Not even the cold could dull her scent on the sheets.

Was Rose comfortable? When she laid on top of the feather comforter, and pretended? When she wondered: if she fell asleep there, would she wake up better? More composed? More caring? More brave? More clued in to what in God’s name she was making of herself? If she fell asleep, there, and dreamt there, in that bed, would some tiny speck of its owner make its way into Rose? Would some small seed catch in the soil? She laid there so long and pretended so hard she must have left scorchmarks on the pillowcase.

Was Rose comfortable? Yes; she has endless practice as intruder.

“It was dreamy.” She comes back to the kitchen. She smiles. “Let me know anytime you need the help again.”

Pearl watches her a long moment. Then she pulls back an inch; nods.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Her throat clears quietly. She fires a glance around the kitchen as her jaw sets (new sinew flickers along her neck.) “I, ah. I haven’t unpacked the souvenirs for anyone yet. But I do… I...”

She reaches for the bag again. Fumbles with it. Fumbles _more_ \-- she curses, and strips off one glove, and crams it into her coat -- and makes way into the bag again: the mysterious rest of the bulk, revealed.

"Roses?” Roses. A half-dozen red, wrapped lovingly in crepe paper. Alright. Rose grins. She offers Pearl a playful eyeroll. " _Very_ cheeky for a thank you. But you three really didn’t need to."

"They aren't,” with such intensity it wipes the smile from Rose. She falters. She finds Pearl’s eyes: they lock the air in her lungs. If the kitchen were dark, they might gleam.

But the moment passes. Pearl wets her lips; she glances away. “Not a… a thank you. I just -- just want you, to have them." Doesn’t quite meet Rose’s eyes. "From me."

By the sink, one of the candles fizzles wetly. The pause outlasts the sound of it. Pearl stares. At her. Rose can only stare back, waterlogged, waiting for the blur of words to fit.

"... not a thank you," Rose echoes, soft.

"The… they’re a gift. From me." Pearl half-steps on seasick legs. Her chin rises, and her throat bobs in a swallow. “You’re… oh, well -- you’re wonderful.” She wrings her remaining glove between both hands, naked and not. “And I’ve been thinking, that. Well. I thought -- I thought, if I have the nerve to leave for so long, and so far, where I don’t know a soul, I… if I have the nerve for that _,_ it should be a walk in the park to come home and _tell_ you so.”

Pearl laughs at herself, once. Dry. Then reaches -- takes the bouquet in hand from its place on the table. “I should at least say it where you can hear.” The crepe paper crinkles in her grip. Pearl holds the bouquet in offer, bare inches. "They’re not a ‘thank you.’"

The words swim. And Rose does: swim. She can feel herself blink, and blink again, searching the new line of Pearl’s jaw. "I... what do you..."

Seconds float. No answer arrives.

Pearl searches Rose, too -- fervid as her scalded skin, eyes cutting bright.

And, they. Slowly dim.

All of her does. Her face falls. Her lips thin. Even as she pulls back from the table, spine straightening, Pearl somehow seems to shrink. But she recovers. And quickly -- fixes her expression into something brave, and crisp and fair. Reasonable. She nods. "Right. Well. Right. I’ll..." She nods, again -- twice. Casting around. Anywhere in the room except Rose. "Thank you, again. For… everything." Pearl places the roses on the table. Next to the aloe. "Please forget I mentioned it."

“For me?” Rose hears herself, miles behind.

“You can keep them anyway, or… whatever you like.” She nods again. Rose feels dizzy, just watching her. She’s dizzy. Isn’t Pearl dizzy? “Thank you agai --”

Thin, watery laughter bubbles up out of Rose before she can stop it. Her hands clap over her mouth, eyes wide.

Pearl’s, too -- her eyes. They go wide with shock. Then they dull... and narrow. Sickly pink crawls up the side of her neck, beside the sunburn. She turns on her heel with grim mumble, “Goodnight."

“Wait! I don’t --” the giggling, _wait!_ Rose can’t -- ow, shit, she frogs her knee _hard_ against the same table leg Pearl nearly did (and she doubles back? Take the roses? Leave them? On the table) -- no, she triples back to snatch the aloe, instead -- _clumsy,_ like her hands are on backwards, “-- Pearl, _wait_ \--”

She’s struggling: trying to fish the glove from her pocket and turn the doorknob at the same time. Her shoulders bunch as Rose closes in. One coat sleeve swipes at her eyes as she half-turns, “This is humiliating enough, we really _don’t_ need --”

“ _This!_ ” Rose trembles, holding it -- nearly shakes more soil from the poor little pot. “The _aloe!_ This -- this was _my_ gift. From me. For you, to --” Her mouth snaps shut around a swallow, tamping down another fit of terrified giggling. She’s going to be sick. “ -- for your sunburn.”

Pearl stares. The rough fabric of the coat sleeve has irritated the burn on her nose. Her eyes widen again. Slowly, her lips part.

“And you gave it back.” Rose turns the thing in her hand for Pearl to see. She puffs a laugh, small. “I thought… ”

Another laugh: smaller, harder.

“You thought I didn’t… oh.” Her eyes close. “Oh, Rose. My goodness. Rose, you…” Her shoulder butts against the door. Not quite a slump. Oh, but she’s smiling. “You’re going to leave me in the dust with that much subtlety.”

The loose glove crumples underfoot when Rose steps closer. She takes Pearl’s bare hand (she’s _freezing!)_ \-- nestles the little pot into the cup of her palm. And wraps _her_ hands around, too, warming. “Can you stay a little longer?”

“That’s… yes. Yes. I can.” She looks up, so _uncertain_ so _sweet_ that it hurts for Rose to meet. Pearl titters, dizzy. “That’s a very good start.”

She takes off her coat and boots, this time. And they both sit.

**Author's Note:**

> I never took ochem _or_ biochemistry pls have mercy


End file.
